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Dane Hamann

Blood Orange

A sun-searched blood orange
lies shattered on a tabletop.

One month of sleepless mornings,
unopened guide books, radiator

bangs, and brick-dust flavors.
We spiderweb our sketchbooks

with patterns of foot traffic,
rings of city walls like tidelines.

We jot half-formed narratives
into knots of black pen scribble.

We draw every doorway as a gulf
and every loggia as a bone bridge.

Birdcaged tower tops double
as scenic overlooks, plazas as

early morning finish lines.
The cold shrinks our bodies

drum-tight as the race is on
between slivers of daylight.

Winter rains dissolve Tuscany.
Toffee froth, the bite and slap

of mudwater against timber,
everything old shouts its rot.

We catch sermons in palmfuls of sea
salt and in bags of blood oranges.

Up against the backsplash, green glass
empties an offering of our last words.



Dane Hamann works as a copy editor for a publishing company in the southwest suburbs
of Chicago. He also studies part-time in the MFA in Creative Writing Program at Northwestern
University. He was recently awarded 2nd place in the 2012 Illinois Emerging Writers
Competition, Gwendolyn Brooks Poetry Award. His writing can be found in TriQuarterly
, Jet Fuel Review, and Stymie Magazine.